


The Last Waltz

by Omnicat



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: F/M, Gen, old fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-15
Updated: 2016-03-15
Packaged: 2018-05-26 21:59:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6257506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Omnicat/pseuds/Omnicat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set right after Endless Waltz. Relena visits her own, empty grave in the Sank Kingdom. “Miss Relena... why are we here?” “To finally bury her, Pagan. To grant her the peace she has sought for so long...”</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Last Waltz

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Nederlands available: [De Laatste Wals](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9102805) by [CattyRosea (Omnicat)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Omnicat/pseuds/CattyRosea)



The car stopped at a cemetery. The terrain and lay-out were typical for that part of the world, with one major difference; the royal guards flanking the entrance gate, clad in all black and with polished spears in hand. They would never use these ceremonial weapons, instead relied on stun guns and tranquillising darts hidden in the folds of their uniforms, but that knowledge made their presence no less imposing. Yet for all their height, broad shoulders and stoic faces, the appearance of a slender young woman, hardly more than a girl, brought them to their knees. The ghostly female motioned for them to stand and permit her and her companions entry, and they did.

For their last remaining queen.

According to the traditions of the royal family of the Sank Kingdom, she wore a funeral gown. Cut from the darkest of black velvet and fine grey silk, it was neither very flattering nor disfiguring. The stiff collar framing her solemn face and the dark golden crown of her hair, the long sleeves that left only parts of her dusk-gloved fingers visible, the wide, ankle-length tails of her coat, the black bodice, buttoned up high and with a silver scarf tucked into it at the throat, the breeches, the knee-high boots; they all formed a striking part of a picture of stature and nobility.

How different she was from the playful marble cherub bearing the same face.

It was another old tradition of the kings and queens of Sank, Pagan told her, as she stood before her stone likeliness. The appearance of the deceased was given to the celestial protector of their grave, so that their spirit could pass on to the next world without the sorrow of leaving their loved ones with nothing but memories. The statues were meant to prevent the souls of the dead from coming to haunt the living they had to leave behind; not because the grieving loved ones feared them, but to save the spirits the tragic fate of getting trapped between two worlds because their love for those left alive was too strong to allow them to leave.

The girl-woman did not know if this was true. But she had no doubt one had to be dead in order to find peace in a grave such as this.

Relena Peacecraft knelt in the snow before her empty grave. It was well-kept, but the wintery elements had managed to leave their marks nonetheless. With one gloved hand she reached out and gently cleared the stone from ice and leaves, uncovering the elegant inscriptions.

 _Relena Katerina Rose Peacecraft_  
April 7, 180 AC - August 28, 182 AC  
An Angel Felled Before She Could Learn To Soar

The date wasn’t right, she thought. Relena Peacecraft, the daughter of the pacifist rulers of the Sank Kingdom, had not truly died until December 27, 196 AC.

“Miss Relena... why are we here?”

 _But it’s time._ She stroked the chubby angel’s face. “To finally bury her, Pagan. To grant her the peace she has sought for so long.”

The elderly butler did not understand, she felt, so she explained. Her words would have seemed dreamy and poetic, if not for the grief lacing her voice.

“This little girl you knew... she is no more. She has lingered here for too long, trapped between two worlds neither of which she could really belong to. All these years you got to spend with her, she has been little more than a ghost... The Kingdom of peace from whence she came was destroyed, yet she remained, dormant, lulled to sleep by the dreams of a new home. But her sleep was restless. Her forgotten home was out of reach, but always haunting her with whispered promises and hazy images of better things, truer things. A prince from the stars awoke her -” A slight rustle of clothing and the sound of crunching snow behind her made her smile. “- and she set off to find the home she had lost. But no matter what she tried, the ideals of her family could not be brought back to life. The world she belonged to proved to be gone forever, and she was truly trapped, unable to reach the next plain of existence, of liberation, because she was still tied to that which had been lost to her...”

She trailed off, her eyes becoming unfocussed as her mind returned to the past. A chilly wind blew through the graveyard, dancing through the ranks of trees and marble dancers and protectors, but unable to touch them. It was truly a realm of the dead; a cold, solemn place filled with history and forgotten splendour.

It was all lost to her.

“Can you understand, Pagan?” she asked, her voice soft and haggard.

A hand was placed on her shoulder. “I do, Miss Relena.”

Blinking back tears, she smiled and pressed her cheek against the gloved fingers in silent thanks. Sensing, perhaps, that she wished to speak to the other member of their company, the butler then left, wandering through the rows of angels in search for old friends. Silence enveloped the young princess’s empty grave, the young woman kneeling in front of it, and the young man who had taken up position at her side.

“I never understood why people fought.” she said eventually, her hushed voice just loud enough to be heard without disturbing the silence of the wind. “I could not see how one, in order to defend that which they loved, could harm another, could steal or destroy that which the other loved. How they could put the rights, wants and needs of another below their own in such a brutal way. How they could think that more violence would be able to put an end to violence. I saw war as an infectious disease that grew ever more deadly and consuming as it claimed more victims. I still do. But I think I understand now.”

She briefly and slightly tilted her head to the side, but reconsidered and looked back to the grave before her.

“There was so much suffering and pain... It festered, and whatever military action was taken to try and end it only fuelled the misery. When I came back to my senses after Father’s death, the thought of causing anyone else such maddening pain was unbearable. War had taken three parents from me and I was hit with so many realisations all at once, could you imagine that? I sought to rid the world of such pain by taking away the source, by cutting out the spoiled flesh, the desire to fight. And it almost worked, didn’t it?”

She chuckled, a bitter sound that was so unlike her it almost scared her. She frowned.

“But it was not enough. As long as the pain and selfishness of a few could lead them to infect the wound once more, it would never be enough. The wound would have to be burned closed.”

Out of habit, her mouth tightened at the thought. But she found the movement lacked the resentment it had used to carry, and it melted away as quickly as it was formed.

“Pain cannot be prevented, but it must not be allowed to spread. If the poison cannot be rinsed out with tender care, then the infected area will have to be sterilised with fire. A small, swift stab of pain to prevent a slow destruction and total agony. It... it still wounds me to know it is necessary, but I understand now... why people would fight...

Whether it is to defend those who cannot defend themselves...”

_Wufei._

“...or to prevent others from having to suffer the same pain and sorrow they have felt...”

_Duo._

“...or to create a situation in which people can sit down together and solve their differences without having to resort to violence...”

_Quatre._

“...or because they are weary of death and wish to protect the life they so crave and cherish...”

_Trowa._

“...or even a desperate attempt to shock the world into realising the true horror of war...”

_Brother._

Relena closed her eyes. A single tear, a silent testimony of the pain she would always feel, slipped from beneath her lashes, but its trail was interrupted by a warm, calloused finger. A smile blossomed on her face as she looked up at him.

_Heero._

“...or by a stroke of destiny.”

He held out his hand. A smile was in his eyes, if not on his face. She looked back to the marble angel one last time.

“You can rest, now. Rest in peace.” she whispered to the girl, took Heero’s hand, and rose as Relena Darlian.

Peacecraft, Darlian, Yuy... all the old advocates of peace had fallen prey to war. The new ones walked a different path, but they had the same goal.

“Mariemeia spoke to me of the three beats of mankind’s endless waltz.” she said to him. “War, peace and revolution. Could mankind ever cease its dance of pain, hatred and revenge?”

Heero shook his head. “We’re dancing to a different tune now.” He took her other hand and pulled her close, the smile from his eyes spreading to his face. “The waltz of peace and love.”

And they danced, moving to the music of the wind and their heartbeats, trampling the snow and exposing the new grass underneath. It was only waiting for spring to set in. And when it did, it could grow lush and high, and fill the cemetery with new life.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments on older fics will ALWAYS remain welcome.


End file.
